


Full Circle

by KGR Tams (secretvixen83)



Series: Full Circle [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Flashbacks, Hope, Kidnapping, Other, Post-Divorce, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-11 14:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17448731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretvixen83/pseuds/KGR%20Tams
Summary: The beginning of a look into the life of Jack Bateman who has never given up on finding his daughter who was kidnapped ten years before.





	1. Chapter 1

Jack couldn’t help but laugh at himself as he peered into the now empty bourbon bottle. Ten years ago he told himself he wouldn’t be ‘that guy’. The stress, pain, divorce, and sleepless nights had caught up to him about a year ago. His hair now almost white, the few laugh lines that remained were visible at the corners of his eyes, even when he wasn’t smiling. He looked good for his age, and despite being in his mid-sixties, he could easily pass for ten years younger.  
Had it really been ten years? Jack questioned as he tossed the empty bottle into the newly emptied waste bin next to his desk. As it clanged and echoed, he spotted the picture of Claire peeking out from behind his computer monitor. Claire. His heart felt like it was going to clamp shut and never beat again. Claire was the youngest of three children. He and his wife had boys, and they wanted to try for a girl. When Claire was born he knew she had him wrapped around her tiny fingers. The minute her eyes- which were as blue as Forget-Me-Nots met his, he melted. He was her daddy, her protector, her guardian, and he took on that role with honor.  
Dismissing the painful memory, Jack picked up his keys, quickly shoved his wallet and cellphone in his pockets, and headed for the car. As he drove, the memories of Claire flooded over him. Birthdays, summer vacations, Christmases all flooded his mind, and overrode his senses. By the time he came to, he was sitting in the parking lot of the store where the nightmare began ten years ago. As if on cue, and triggered by Jack’s mood, rain began to fill the windshield and mercifully blur the neon orange “Open” sign in the storefront window. Jack sat there for a moment, listening to the sound of the rain, knowing how much Claire would have loved it. She would have been 19 this year. In 19 days in fact.  
The sound of his cellphone buzzing brought him out of is reverie. Pulling it out, he read the screen, “Marion”. The last person he wanted to talk to, but it was a necessary evil. She was after all, Claire’s mother. “Yeah?” He answered. Long ago finding it hard to be even somewhat cordial with someone who gave up looking for their child. “That’s all I get?” Marion chided on the other end. Jack smiled. “Hell, you’re lucky you get that.” He quipped. The silence was almost deafening between them, but in the background, Jack could hear waves, and what sounded like Spanish being spoken. “Gone back to the island? Life was too stressful for you on the mainland?” He asked. Marion’s eyeroll was almost audible through the phone. “Come on Jack, you say it like it’s a bad thing. Not everyone can be as miserable as you.” It was Jack’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’m only miserable because someone stole my child Marion. I believe I have every damn right to mourn that for as long as it takes!” He snapped gritting his teeth. “She was mine too!” Marion snarled, failing to hide the anger that she felt. The silence fell again, and Jack hung up without saying good-bye.  
Driving back home, Jack stopped and picked up some groceries, and decided to make himself an actual meal. Once back home, he set out putting the groceries away, being his normal meticulous self when his cellphone buzzed again. “Tyler” came up on the screen. His oldest. “Ty, how are you?” Jack answered, knowing full well Marion had called their son with the sob story that he had hung up on her. Which he had. Tyler and Chris knew their mother well. They knew why there was a divorce. But Jack was proud that he never trash-talked Marion to the boys. Not even when she tried to take the house “because she could”. 

“Dad, did you really yell at mom?” Tyler asked as he was rolling his eyes. “Tyler, when do I ever yell?” Jack answered. Tyler sighed, and Jack heard his grandson in the background. “Never. I wish I could say the same.” Jack laughed, and replied, “It comes with practice. Give A.J. a hug from his grandpa and relax once he goes to sleep.” He and Tyler exchanged good-byes and hung up.  


Jack noted the time and decided that he deserved a late dinner, accompanied by a little Moscato and Bach. Who cared how the wine paired, and the music played. It made him feel good, and that is what mattered. The small things. “Alexa, Play Bach Cello Suite Number One in G.” Silence, then “Playing Bach Cello Suite Number One by Mischa Maisky on You Tube.” Came Alexa’s reply. The familiar chords, rich and melodic filled the kitchen. Jack sliced bell peppers, onions, and sausage like a pro. He then decided to make noodles from scratch, and set out the flour, eggs, and a little salt and pepper in proper proportions, and began the process with the aid of his stand mixer, and pasta attachment. As the noodles came through the last time, Jack smiled in satisfaction, and set the noodles aside, making sure they didn’t stick together. In a pan, Jack added Olive oil, butter, pepper, and a little kosher salt, and after it was all well mixed he added the bell peppers, onions, and sausage.  
Jack smiled as the aromas filled the air. He and Claire used to cook together on Sundays. He hoped that if she was still around that she would still enjoy cooking as she had. Blanching the noodles quickly in water, he pulled them out at precisely the right time. Using them as a nest to hold the sausage mixture on a plate. Pouring himself a generous glass of Moscato, he sat in the kitchen alone and enjoyed his meal. For once he wasn’t sad. Just this once.

A world away, Cora was running down the hall of her apartment to stop the tea from whistling on the stove. The walls of her apartment barren, white, and impersonal, it didn’t bother her in the least. What bothered her were the flashbacks that were plaguing her. As she moved the kettle away from the heat, and poured it over the teabag in her cup, she cast an irritated glance around at the many boxes that were obstructing the space. These boxes were her life. This was the eighth move in 12 months, and she had hoped the flashbacks would have stopped. Alas no luck. So, now she would stay here until she just couldn’t take anymore, and then do what she always did, move to a new city.  
The flashbacks were not bad or painful. Just annoying. Most included a man she had never met, but he felt oddly familiar in a good way. Flashes of singing, dancing in a kitchen, playing with two older boys. Christmas cookies, and hot chocolate. 

At 19, Cora had it made. She made commissioned art pieces, and made a decent living, and was able to move out at midnight of her 18th birthday. Her best friend helped her move the first 3 times. But after that, Cora just did it on her own. Sipping her tea, Cora sat at her kitchen table and thumbed through a local newspaper. In the exact middle of the paper was the headline, “ 10 Years Since Claire.” As she skimmed the story, her heart broke. Reading of a family that went through the absolute hell of losing their child. Not just losing her but having her kidnapped away from them. What she saw at the bottom of the page made her heart stop. A picture. The man from her flashbacks. She would know that face anywhere now. The caption beneath it read: “Claire’s father, Jack Bateman says, ‘I will never give up hope that she is still out there somewhere.’ Seen here in his kitchen on the tenth anniversary of his daughter’s disappearance.”


	2. New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers finally found. But questions and feelings play a part too

Cora felt light headed, and her hands began to shake. She was in shock. Jack Bateman. The face finally had a name. She didn’t know what to do or think. Reading the entire article a second time, her heart stopped again as she saw Jack’s picture. It wasn’t fear, but it was recognition. Why did she recognize him? Her past was sketchy at best. She was glad to move away from her parents. She always felt that there was something they weren’t telling her. The day she left, the neighbor-a kind lady in her early 70’s handed her an envelope. She kept it with her, but had never opened it.   
Cora put down her tea and went down the stark hall to her disorganized room and pulled open the drawer of her nightstand. She pulled out the slightly battered non-descript letter sized envelope. Leaving the drawer open, she left the bedroom and once back in the kitchen, propped herself against the counter and opened the envelope. Inside there were pictures, and newspaper clippings. Among the clippings was a note. In very flourished cursive it read “You were never theirs.” Her stomach sank. She spread out the pictures and clippings. A little girl smiling in some, the man from her flashes at a podium in another. All the headlines read, “Claire’s Disappearance Still Unsolved” All of the pictures were of Cora. The lightheadedness returned, her ears rang, and she was forced to sit down. The room spun, and everything tilted, then went black.  
Jack pulled himself out of bed and stumbled to the coffee pot. Checking his cellphone, he read the news, responded to Tyler’s message. After consuming his coffee, Jack showered, shaved, and dressed. He wanted to head to Barnes and Noble and pick up a new book, and just be out of the house. Every year without Claire got harder. Every night he tried to get more drunk than the night before. The guilt was eating him alive. Everyone, Marion included tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault. But he knew it was. He had only turned his back for a second. That’s when his life changed forever.  
Coming out of Barnes and Noble, he bumped the arm of a young woman. The turned to apologize to each other. Their eyes met, and the world stopped. Cora looked up directly into the face of Jack, the man from her flashbacks. If the newspapers to be believed, her father. Jack looking down into the young lady’s face would know those eyes, and those freckles anywhere. His heart stopped. So did Cora’s. Jack broke the silence, “I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t see you, I hope I didn’t hurt you.” Smiling kindly as Cora regained herself she responded, “No, no, you didn’t. I’m fine, I do have boney elbows though.” Cora saw his smile, and immediately the flashback of Christmas came again, and Jack, though younger, was watching her from his recliner playing with her new dolls.  
She looked at Jack for a moment longer and asked him a single question. Only her real father would know the answer to this. “I’m sorry, this may be completely out of line, but did you used to cook large meals on Sundays? And were there small pastries too?” Jack’s mouth immediately went dry, as tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. “Small beignets. I’d make them with every Sunday evening, then my daughter…” “Would grab two and chocolate milk for breakfast every Monday.” Cora finished the sentence. This time it was Cora who nearly cried. “Can we go somewhere and talk?” Cora asked as she glanced away quickly to hide her tears.  
Jack offered his arm to her, they tried to make small talk, and as they ran out of flippant topics, they found a street side diner. Settling into a booth next to the window, Cora took out the envelope that she had planned to take to the police station. Instead of opening it she bit her lower lip and handed it to Jack. “Someone gave me this when I moved out a little over a year ago.” Jack took the envelope and opened it. He pulled out the handwritten note and read it. He looked from the note to the girl. Her eyes were calm, but Jack could see she was nervous.   
Gingerly he set the note aside and pulled the rest of the papers out letting them spread out in front of him. Picking up each one was like dissecting a memory for Jack. It was ripping his heart out, and he couldn’t let it show. His mind was going a thousand miles a minute. He wanted to believe this girl was Claire but had heard horror stories. The last clipping was the most recent. It was printed only a few days ago. The other clippings were yellowed with age. Cora saw the anger rising in Jack’s cheeks and recognized it as something she did as well. Jack asked a question so softly Cora didn’t actually hear it. When she didn’t answer, Jack asked again as he locked eyes with her, “Who are they that this note refers to?”   
His voice was gruff and cold. Anger was around the edges. “The people who raised me that I never felt like I belonged to.” Jack held up a picture next to Cora’s face, and there was no mistaking it. He swallowed hard. “Do you still live with them? You’re only 19.” Cora smiled, it stopped Jack’s heart. He would know that smile anywhere. “I moved out when I was 18. They were driving me insane.” Jack laughed, and it felt good to actually laugh. Cora noticed it lit up his entire face, and again the flashbacks came. This time it warmed Cora to her soul.  
Cora came back to reality to Jack saying, “There is an easy way to find out if this is you.” Jack was looking at her intently, he wanted to believe it was her. She wanted it to be her. “How?” She asked curiously. “Fingerprints.” Jack answered. When he saw her look of curiosity, he continued, “Every year, we went to a community fair and had Claire’s fingerprints done. They will be on file at the police department.” Cora blinked. It was all coming together. Her questions, her feelings of being the odd one out, all of it was beginning to be come clearer. “Let’s do it.” Cora replied with steel in her voice. Leaving a twenty on the table, Jack and Cora left their coffee half drank.  
They walked arm in arm back to Barnes & Noble, and Jack pulled out his keys and unlocked his truck. He opened the door for Cora, and as soon as she smelled the residual cologne in the truck, Cora knew. She really knew. All the memories flew at her. She was lost in them as Jack got in the truck. Cora was still deeply in the memories and absently said “Stetson” out loud. Jack heard it, and it struck a chord in his heart. He knew he and this girl’s hopes were riding on fingerprints. “You never told me your name. What is it?” Jack asked as Cora came back to reality again. Looking at Jack, she said, “Cora, but it feels wrong. It’s never felt like it was me.” Jack smiled, glanced over at her and said, “Maybe it’s not.”  
Once in the police station, the world seemed to slow down for Cora. It was as if her heart beat slowed, and everything only moved if she breathed. The ringing phones, the papers shuffling, the smell of stale coffee mixed with antiseptic cleaner all wafted on the air within the small space. Jack led her to a detective that was about Jack’s age. Looked dog tired, and less impressed to see Jack than a dog going to the vet. “O’Dell, I need one favor.” O’Dell started to protest. “Stop.” Jack said, “I need to compare fingerprints.” For the first time, O’Dell acknowledged Cora’s existence. “You willing to get your prints done kid?” O’Dell’s voice and accent rang as a native New Yorker, and the toughness of law enforcement.   
“Yeah, I am doing this on my own.” Cora answered, glancing nervously at Jack. O’Dell stood up and led them both to a computer. He entered his badge number, sighed and said gruffly “Right thumb first please.” Cora placed her right thumb on the digital pad and held it until the light turned green. “Next four fingers please?” Cora placed them on the digital pad in the specified slots until the light turned green. “Now what?” Jack asked. “Now, like always, we wait Jack.” O’Dell said as he sent the prints over to the server. O’Dell hit enter, and began to walk Jack and Cora back out, when the phone on his desk rang.   
O’Dell walked over and didn’t even get to answer it as he turned and faced Jack and Cora. His face was a mix between shock and disbelief. He hung up, walked over to his guests, and whispered “I don’t know how, I don’t care how actually. But this young lady, This is Claire.” O’Dell then turned all cop. “Where have you been young lady?” He asked as Jack sat down in disbelief. He was conflicted. Angry, overjoyed, most definitely overwhelmed. Cora was answering O’Dell’s questions with confidence. She gave him everything he asked for over the next 3 hours.  
Jack sat in silence. Listening, observing, absorbing everything Cora said. Jack didn’t notice O’Dell was talking to him. “Jack!” O’Dell exclaimed a little louder to get his attention. “Take your daughter home. Where she is really from.” O’Dell said smiling. Jack was still in shock and shook O’Dell’s hand. Coming out of it, he took his daughter’s hand and they left.


End file.
